


The Unwitting Jedi

by Cecil_G_P



Category: Star Wars, The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Star Wars AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecil_G_P/pseuds/Cecil_G_P
Summary: Star Wars AU plain and simple. Happens during the time in which Luke is missing but before the events of The Force Awakens. Will add characters and tags as the story progresses but assume canon-typical violence for now.





	1. A Prologue Of Sorts

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of another star wars au fic I did recently. I hope this makes sense but tbh I'm a little afraid the new plot is going to cause me to forget to put certain pieces of context in so if something doesn't make sense be sure to tell me and I'll slip the context into an upcoming chapter!

It’s not until Nureyev is staring down the barrel of Miasma’s gun that all the evidence comes together. And I feel stupid. Because I’m a detective goddammit. And how did I not see what had been right in front of me? 

The lucky blaster shots, the weird dreams, knowing things that I shouldn’t, hearing voices where there should only be thoughts. And the last piece of evidence, pointing a gun at the man I loved, commanding me to get into her car, Miasma. The First Order’s bloodhound. She had been enlisted by the Order to hunt potential threats, Jedi- or more often kids who were born with the force and didn’t know the trouble using it was going to get them into.

I only knew about her through rumors. Mars was never under the Empire’s control and as a result we never heard much of their propaganda. Most people in this solar system didn’t even believe in the force- I sure as hell didn’t. There was never any reason for me to. I’d never met a Jedi, never seen the force- and until I swallowed an ancient martian supplement I never for a second considered that _ I myself was force sensitive _ . 

I must have been born with it though. Dimaggio’s research showed that the martian pill would only affect those who were already force sensitive- not give powers to those without them. It was more like caffeine -or steroids- for your midichlorians than anything else. But even after swallowing the pill I denied it.  _ The force wasn’t real. _ I told myself. The pill was just a goddamned hallucinogen. And all that came after it? Coincidence. 

But now… 

I couldn’t hear Miasma’s thoughts- learning to wall off your mind was a tool of the trade for someone who hunted Jedi- but I could hear her assistants. The Storm Troopers that followed her command were trying to hide their thoughts but clearly hadn’t been well trained. I got the gist of it. They needed me -the jedi, they thought of me- alive, and Nureyev dead. 

“Enough of this! Kill the thief!”

_ I couldn’t let them kill him.  _

So I pointed my blaster at my own head.

_ “If you so much as touch him this blaster goes through my brain!” _

“And why should I care where you put your lasers?” __

“Because you need me. I don’t know why, but you do, and that puts you in a pretty bad position Miasma.”


	2. I Have Officially Given Up Titling Things Normaly And You Can Deal With It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After I get through season 1's arc with miasma this is going to totally divulge from canon but for now I need to get this down so there's context for shit.

When Miasma grabbed us after we’d robbed the Utgard Express, when she duped us into handing her that kyber crystal superweapon, I thought that’d be the end of it. Get dragged to a secret base, get myself shot and my body dragged off to whatever hooligan was running the first order these days, and then Nureyev would finally be free to escape without me and this whole mess would be done. But this. 

Days of this… stupid experiment. Over and over again. Days of working us too long and waking us too quick… This was a lot less fun than I had imagined. Over and over again, one of her storm troopers would strap me down in one room, Nureyev in another, and she’d have him flip cards. So. Many. God damn cards.

I have no idea what she wants or how this could possibly benefit the first order but she was pretty goddamned determined to finish whatever it was.

“You’ve taken what’s rightfully mine, Juno Steel. And nobody takes what belongs to me. Soon I will have what I want. Then, you will die. Brace yourself, Juno Steel. This will only hurt a lot.”

The diodes she had stuck on me felt like they were digging holes in my skull, and all the while Miasma was typing away at that computer of hers.

“Sooooo, what are you up to on that computer? Screen that big, you gotta be able to play a hell of a lot of solitaire.”

“You. Go monitor the thief.” 

The last of the storm trooper guards left the room. That unnerved me more than I’d like to admit. I didn’t want to be alone with her.

“You know what I’m after, Juno Steel. The Lassonionic Capsule. Saffron understood the pill’s general purpose, but none of the details. That’s what happens when you send chemists to do the work of an anthropologist: you get details without context.”

“You call ‘ancient-jedi-super-drug’ a detail?”

“The martians went extinct long before the jedi order formed. They were however the most naturally force sensitive hypothesised to exist. Ancient texts imply that every single one of them was born with the force. Saffron took a sample of the capsule’s chemical composition, and their analysis of that sample was correct. But because they didn’t bother to look at the context of the society the drug was created in, they missed the capsule’s true calling. 

“Look here.”

She turned her screen, and I was enough of a moron to look. It was a big, swollen mass, red and purple like someone just filled a potato with blood until it was ready to burst. The thing’s bulgy roots were twisting into the back of an eyeball. I didn’t need to ask whose eye it was.

“This is the Lassonionic Growth, Juno Steel. And it lives somewhere around… here.”

She tapped my forehead.

“Not so funny now, are you? You have no one to blame but yourself - you swallowed the capsule and now the very last growth has taken root in you. I cannot remove it without killing it. With this machine, I can replicate it. And implant one in myself.”

“You want one for yourself? Are you even allowed to do that? Isn’t there some sith code that says there can only be two sith lords at a time?” 

She scoffed. 

“The mediocre child Snoke has taken as an apprentice barely counts as a sith lord. And with this growth I can finally surpass him and show Snoke my true potential. But to do that I need the full data on the growth. And to get that data you need to access the unconscious mind.

Assistant! Give the thief the shot.”

As Nureyev fell into unconsciousness Miasma commanded me to look into his head. I didn’t want to see what was inside Peter Nureyev’s mind. If a man like him chooses to hide in the shadows, it might be better to let him stay there. But the longer I delayed the more violent Miasma would get- with both of us. So I took the plunge.

I could feel his mind, I had looked into it enough to tell the difference between him and the minds of others. I pressed against it, against the barriers he kept up against jedi mind tricks like this one, against the barriers that slipped away when his unconscious mind recognised me and let me through.

A strange room, coated in sticky red light. Two men: one older, broader, with big, yellow eyes like an owl’s, and the other… young. A boy, really, lean and tall. 

Nureyev. Twenty years ago, at least. The older man was holding something, something heavy, and glowing. Nureyev was holding something too- a lightsaber. The same lightsaber he had been wearing on his hip when we first met to ‘investigate’ grim’s mask. The same lightsaber he told me he stole off a jedi.  

“Here’s something else I stand for, Peter.” The old man spoke. “I won’t draw a weapon on my padawan. Do what you like, but I will not strike back.” He turned to leave, and that’s when this teenage Nureyev started shouting.

_ “Don’t walk away from me! I’ll do it! I swear I will!” _

The older man simply kept walking, Nureyev unsheathed that purple lightsaber, and with one practiced motion he rushed at the man and stabbed him through the chest. 

“Oh, Peter… Oh, my boy.”

Even as the heat of the lightsaber cauterized the wound he reached out to touch Nureyev’s cheek. Tenderly. Lovingly. 

Nureyev flinched away from that hand as if it were a hot poker. Nureyev stared at the dead man, at the glowing purple saber in his hand, and in the strange red light of that strange red room, I could not tell where the saber ended and Peter Nureyev began. 

I shoved myself out of his head, screaming all the way, Miasma slapping me for my trouble.


	3. I Swear I'm Almost To The Part With The Original Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God I hope this makes sense to people who aren't me.

“Again!”

“No. No, I can’t go in there again.”

“Oh, can’t you? Assistant! Get a knife and bring me one of the thief’s thumbs.”

“No! No, stop it.”

“Then do it. Now.”

“Alright. Fine. Fine.”

“Good. Belay that order, assistant, but keep the knife ready. Now, Juno Steel, again.”

I had no choice. So I reached.

And there was the teenage Nureyev again. But this time there was no red room and no lightsaber. It was Nureyev, the older man, and another woman, all standing in a decadent office. Out the window was a beautiful city with tall pastel buildings and beyond that clouds. 

Peter and the man -Mag Ransom, the woman red off his identification papers- seemed to be flattering the woman. She was their mark, no doubt. 

“Father and son. I-I didn’t know they made dignitaries in pairs.” She spoke with the air of someone who knew that there was a power imbalance in the conversation and hoped to god it was in favor of her. 

It wasn’t.

“Oh, we’re the first of our kind.”

“First and second, respectively.” Nureyev chimed in.

“We are very excited about this system of yours, the… what did you call it?”

“The Guardian Angel System.”

“Well, I have to say I think our research has convinced us, so if we could get right to business.”

“Oh, I don’t think I need to tell you gentlemen that the-the Guardian Angel System is the most incredible achievement in security in the Outer Rim. We based our schematics on that of the original death star and scaled it down for more practical use.”

“Practical?” Nureyev's charming smile became the tiniest bit more jagged. 

“As you know, Brahma is now very nearly on the front lines of our war. People act like the world is ending, and in times like these, well -”

“People forget how to behave.” Mag completed.

“P-precisely! Everything, from-from petty crime, to violent revolt… You wouldn’t believe what people try to get away with here. What-whatever happened to patriotism? Loyalty?”

“After all, Brahma belongs to you. They’re just living on it.”

Nureyev pulled top secret passwords out of that office in a manner of minutes. As him and Mag walked out they spole in hushed whispers about the password and the plan. Nureyev gazed out at Brahma. Something about that place pulled on Nureyev’s heartstrings; the music, the smells, the people going about their lives. It all felt like home.

“Was… my father really from here, Mag?”

“Of course. And don’t forget, Pete. This is just as much for him, as it is for Brahma, as it is for the jedi order even.”

Looking out at the candy colored roofs, Nureyev had to wonder which one he and his father had lived in all those years ago. He tried to remember, but he was so young then.

“I’ll never forget the day I met him. I nearly punched him out, first thing. He dressed like a constable to make it down to the surface incognito.”

“Brave man, your dad. A great jedi master. But you’ve heard all this a thousand times, no need to wallow.”

“Could you… tell it again, Mag? I think I need to hear it again.”

“Of course, Pete. A friend of mine sent your dad to me. He’d been asking around for a thief, he said. Someone quick enough, sly enough, to avoid getting caught by this city’s damned lasers. 

He’d brought only two things with him. The first was a set of plans - the plans to the Guardian Angel System. He’d risked his life to get them. He couldn’t stand what this city does to the people down below. 

And the second thing he brought? Was you. He said he’d hidden you somewhere safe, that he sensed the force had destined you for great things. Didn’t tell me where, of course, I’d only just met him. But the second he stepped outside my hideout, on the way back to you-

Killed. Where he stood. A tragedy. A very great tragedy. It was years before I saw you again, and I knew who you were in an instant. I could sense it instantly, the great destiny you were planned for. I knew I had to train you as a jedi even if you didn’t have the right midichlorian count for it. And I’m glad I did. Even without the force, you’re already a greater jedi than most could ever dream of.”

A father who had survived order 66. If he really tried, Nureyev could remember a long, lean man who was warm, who had a voice as soft as that guitar in the square. And then, all he remembered was the streets. The cold, and the hunger, and the lasers of the law cracking like lightning from the floating city above. The years of barely surviving, remembering only one thing: his name. 

And then, Mag. And a purpose, for the first time.

 

“Remember that, Pete. Remember what your father and the rest of the jedi died for. There are people down there on Brahma who say we can sort all this out peacefully if we’re just patient, but it’s been too long already! They delayed me from carrying out this plan for years. And in the meantime, too many good people like the your father, gone.”

“But not forgotten. I’ll make sure of that.”

The way that Mag looked at Nureyev made me feel a little twinge in my gut. Love and pride, and… a little awe? Like he couldn’t believe he’d had a hand in making this human being. Like he was sure that the galaxy would be fine, so long as it had people like Peter Nureyev in it. 

...So why? This teenage revolutionary, this kid who was willing to risk his life to make Brahma a better place… Why would he kill a man who loved him that much? And how did he get from there to the man he was today? The master thief who’d broken and entered my life. I had to know. I reached further. Harder.

“Juno Steel. What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Now I think it’s time we grab a bite to eat.”

And then I felt… something.

In the periphery of my mind I could hear a frantic beeping.

“My machine!”

“Augh!”

Something… not so good.

“Juno Steel, if you break this machine, it’s your head.”

I screamed out. The pain was too much. I let go.

“Juno Steel, you will not pass out on my time! Wake up, you useless- I’ll kill you!”


	4. Finally The Part With Original Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... some things... happen.

I didn’t open my eyes for a moment. If I could just keep my eyes closed I could pretend I was anywhere else. I opened my eyes, there was no apartment or anything else, just the holding cell miasma threw us in in-between experiments. A couple of bedrolls and a martian burial chamber.

“How long was I out this time?” I hoisted myself in a sitting position.

“Careful! Don’t sit up so quickly, you've taken quite the hit to… wherever that thing hits you.” His hands fluttered around me, eventually settling on my shoulders as he attempted to gently push me back down.

“I'm alright I jus-”

“Shhhhhhhhh lie down again.” 

“I said I'm fine dammit!” I pushed his hands off with as much strength as I had left. Not much admittedly, but he did pull back. “Just turn down the walls would you? They’re so damn loud every time I look at it my eyes try to make a break for it.” 

“Yes those carvings are unsettling aren't they. Writings from an extinct species. Carvings and ideas from minds long gone. What we could learn from them given the time...”

“Why do you even care what they say, it’s not like you could learn any of those force tricks engraved on the walls.”

“There is value in knowing the techniques, even if I can’t perform them.”

“Why?”

“Well, someone else could learn them someday. You perhaps.”

“Ugh. No thanks. I’ve had enough of this ancient magic bullshit for a lifetime.” I scrubbed a hand across my eyes, lingering on the right one, burning as it was. I felt a hand reach for mine and carefully pry it from my face. He did it softly enough that I could probably resist, but I didn’t bother. I looked at his face, usually masked with the emotions of another identity, those bright eyes of his were tender and oh so sad.

“Juno.” He paused, trying to collect himself. “Juno, I am so sorry that you had to experience the force like this. That you had to experience this-” his other hand gestured to the cell we were in “-at all. And the fact that she took this incredible gift you have, and is using it so horrendously against you, is a crime greater than any other in this damn universe. I am- I’m so sorry Juno.”

I hadn’t realised his hand had moved to cup my face until I unconsciously leaned into it. “I uhh- I.” I broke off, unsure of what to say.

“You should lay back down. You’re swaying.”

I took stock of myself. “So I am.” 

Nureyev helped me lay back down, the room felt like it was swimming around me. Maybe it was just the dizziness- scratch that, it was totally the dizziness- but when Nureyev tried to sit back up I clung to his sleeve. 

“Juno?”

“Come back.” I mumbled and tugged his arm to my chest, my own consciousness and common sense and self control fluctuating within me. 

“Alright Juno.” My eyes were slipping closed but I could hear the small smile in his voice as he lay down next to me, snaking an arm around my torso. I turned into his side as my mind tuned into his. I could feel his surprise at it, before gently letting his guard down to me. I didn’t try to read his thoughts, or see his memories, or anything else that might give me another nosebleed. I just layed there with him. Our minds brushing against each other, enjoying each other’s presence, and sharing surface feelings- though even in my groggy state I made sure to hold back all feelings of pain and I’m sure he did the same. Eventually we drifted off, lulled to sleep by each other’s drowsiness.

                                                                                               ****************************************

I jolted awake, my entire being rattled from the aftershocks of a gigantic explosion. I lurched forward into a sitting position, dragging Peter Nureyev with me. His arms were still wrapped around me, but at the sound of the explosion they had tightened into a vice grip. We sat there, listening to the clomp clomp of the storm trooper’s boots running around, trying to figure out what was going on.

Nureyev unwound an arm from me and slid his cracked glasses back into place. “The police?”

“No way. Even if the HCPD did give enough of a shit to look for me, there’s no way they’re packing that much fire power.” 

I got up and wandered over to the bars of the holding cell, the lock on the door was ancient and analog, one of the kind that still used a metal key. Outside, there was a stormtrooper. They would have looked nonplussed in their uniform if not for the anxious tapping of their foot.

“Hey! What’s going on out there?” 

They shifted the barrel of their gun in our direction. “Quiet! Jedi scum!”

I was about to argue when Nureyev walked over and took my hand, squeezing it slightly. “Let’s not start fights we can’t finish, shall we.”

I yanked my hand back. “I can finish any fight I damn want!” I turned back to the guard. “Bucket-head! What’s going on?” The guard stomped towards us, I shot Nureyev a look -and a thought- before pressing myself back against the bars.

“Shut up jedi scum!” He nudged me with the barrel of his gun. “You’re in no place to be asking questions.”  

“Stop bluffing! I know you can’t shoot me unless your mama bear gives the say so!”

“That’s enough Juno!” Nureyev's arms snaked around my waist and pulled me back, it was an awkward position, not very threatening or protective, but I went with him, sensing his anxiety -and his triumph. “We’re so sorry sir,” he nods to the storm trooper, “we won’t bother you again.”

I let him lead me back to the other end of the cell. “Did you get it?” I hiss at him. He opens a palm to reveal a rusted key. The same rusted key that the storm trooper had at his belt moments before. 

“Now all we need is an opportunity.” He whispered back, grinning. 

“Opportunity? Do you hear those blaster shots? The base is in chaos. We’re not going to get a better opportunity than this.”

“Patience detective, the base may be in chaos but that guard isn’t. I’d rather if neither of us got shot today. Besides- we don’t even know what’s going on.”

“We’ll find out when we get out there.”

Crackling voices drifted across the room, our heads snapped back up to watch the guard who was turned away from us and fiddling with his comms. 

“See detective? An opportunity.” Lightning fast and quiet as the depths of space, Nureyev crossed the room and carefully fitted the key in the lock. The door swung open with a creak. The stormtrooper whirled around at the sound but it was too little too late. Nureyev threw his arms around the soldier’s neck, spidery arms trying to worm their way into the space between the helmet and the chest plate. That neck armor may have been laser proof but it had to be flexible enough for the soldiers to turn their heads, and Nureyev took advantage of that, executing a perfect chokehold. After a few moments of struggle they dropped. 

I rushed over as Nureyev picked himself up and reached for my hand. 

“Come on! Before anyone realises what’s happened!”

I snag the blaster and follow along. The hallways are dark and mazelike and echo blaster shots from the mysterious firefight.

“Do you know where we’re going?” I shout to Nureyev.

“I… I have an idea.” He says in between breaths, but he looks a little guilty.

“Where’re we going then?”

“I think I saw where Miasma stored our weapons. I know escape is our first priority but I’d feel a lot better if we were armed properly for whatever’s happening at the surface level.”

I nodd. “Ok.”

Miraculously, we find the weapons storage. I feel better with my own blaster in my hand and the knowledge that it’s set to stun- a function the military grade blaster I took from the guard didn’t have. I glance over to Nureyev. His lightsaber had been placed on a small table, it glinted in the light and for a second I could see it, not as a weapon, but as a holy object from a religion long gone. Nureyev went to pick it up, he looked more relieved than I’d seen him since the Utgard express. But when his hands touched the worn metal, I could suddenly see sticky red light, a younger Peter Nureyev, an old and wise jedi master. I looked back into Nureyev's face and remembered I was standing next to a murderer. A murderer who just got his preferred weapon back in hand. 

He clips it to his belt and looks back at me.

“Everything alright Juno?”

“Yeah…” I swallowed around a sudden lump in my throat. “Let’s just find our way out of here.”

“Agreed.” 

We went back to stumbling through the hallways, weak from lack of food and sleep. Despite it all, Nureyev seemed more confident with the lightsaber at his hip. The halls were eerily empty, all of the soldiers had been diverted to whatever was going on on the surface. 

“I think the loading dock should be this way.” 

We turned down the dark hallway and hoped for the best. A couple steps away from an unmarked door I felt a wave of cold fury wash over me, causing me to stop dead. Nureyev turned to look back at me. “Juno, wha-”

Suddenly I could pick out the sound of someone sprinting towards us, but their footsteps weren’t heavy enough to be the military grade boots of a stormtrooper. 

_ Miasma.  _

“It’s her.” I made a break for the door Nureyev following my lead. I yanked the door open, daylight finally in sight when an invisible force _ -the force- _ slammed the door shut. There was the hum of a lightsaber, and then the hum of another, close enough for me to feel the heat. I turned. 

Miasma was within throwing distance, one hand stretched out to slam the door and the other clutching a blood red lightsaber at her side. 

But closer than that was Peter Nureyev. Standing in front of me like an  _ idiot,  _ brandishing an elegant lightsaber that washed his face in a soft purple light. I didn’t have to read Miasma’s  mind to know his stance was perfect, the frustration was written across her face. 

I raise my blaster. “Don’t move Miasma.”

“Steel, I won’t deny that you’re a prodigy with a blaster but you’re a fool if you think a sith lord on the rise can’t deflect your shot.”

“Sith lord on the…” I mumble incredulously. “There’s no way you could move faster than a blaster shot. That’s just plain physics.”

“I don’t have to.” She grins a toothy grin.”I just have to trust in the force.”

“Oh for the love of-”

“Juno don-”

I take the shot. And Miasma raises her lightsaber and  _ deflects a blaster shot _ . Like it’s nothing. Like it’s a lazy game of badminton. I jump back and yelp as the shot ricochets back at me, scorching the wall behind where I had just been. You know, I shouldn’t have been able to dodge that any more than Miasma should have been able to deflect it.

“Damnit Juno! Are you alright?”

“You shouldn- I shou-  _ That shouldn’t be possible. _ ”

“Enough of this!” Miasma rushed at Nureyev, swinging her saber. He parried easily, sparks flying where their lightsabers met. I tried to train my blaster on Miasma but they were too close together and moving too much. I couldn’t take a shot without risking hitting Nureyev. 

I couldn’t take feeling this damn useless. 

I let the arm with the blaster fall to my side.

I raised my other arm.

Breath in. Focus. Reach deep into my own mind.

Breath out. Let my eyes slide close. I can’t see them anymore, but I can feel their motions through space, sense them better than my eyes ever could see them.

Breath in. Gather strength. Reach into that foreign space behind my right eye.   

Breath out. Get a grip on the both of them. And rip them apart. 

My eyes snap open, I feel bloody tears well up in my right eye but it doesn’t matter. Nureyev and Miasma are flying to opposite sides of the hall. Nureyev skids to a halt beside me, I can’t see him look at me but I feel it, I hear him gasp at the blood running down my face. But I can’t look at him. I only have eyes for Miasma right now. 

My arm is still outstretched, trembling with the force it takes to pin her against the wall. She struggles, limbs flailing in ways her human body shouldn’t be able to, teeth snapping wildly at empty air. Her white knuckled grip on her lightsaber the only thing keeping me from tearing it out of her hands.

“Juno!” Nureyev grips my shoulder hard. “Let’s go!”

But I can’t. I’m breathing heavily, trying to maintain my grip on Miasma. If I falter, even for a second, she’ll kill us.

“Juno! You can’t keep this up for much longer! We have to go! Now!”

And all of a sudden, something inside me snaps. I crumple to the floor, still conscious and aware but unable to move. My muscles feel liquefied. I tilt my head to watch Miasma burst free from the wall I had trapped her to. Long legs step over me and obscure my vision. Nureyev, steps over me, and holds his saber out protectively. 

In a last fit of desperation I reach out to his mind. The connection is weak but as soon as he feels me he grips onto it like a lifeline. His thoughts flood mine with worry, and comfort, and protectiveness, and affection. Reassurances that he doesn’t even believe, about how he’ll protect me, and get me out of here, and I’ll be fine. I try to tell him to leave but his resolve to protect me only strengthens. 

Miasma advances on him, murder in her eyes.  

This is it.

A streak of blue and yellow flies in front of her blade, whirling around her with dizzying speed. Miasma cries out and tries to hold her ground, but there’s no use as she's forced farther and farther back. It takes me a moment to realize that those humming sounds and telltale sparks are from a lightsaber battle. Yellow streaks settle into twin yellow lightsabers, weaving around miasma faster than her single lightsaber can. In a matter of minutes Miasma is knocked to the ground, her lightsaber flung far far away. A group of ragtag people surround the pair and cuff Miasma. They haul her off, struggling futilely at her many binds. 

Our savior holds a long yellow lightsaber in each of her two hands. At the press of a button they melt back into the silver handles. Each handle is held by strong blue hands, protruding from leather and metal armguards, above which rest bare and muscular light blue biceps. On the left shoulder swirls the tattoo of an insignia I don’t recognize and draped around those shoulders are dark blue and white striped lekku peaking into heavy montrals. Our savior turned to face us, chest heaving evenly and controlled and blue face drawn into a picture of concern. It taken a herculean effort but I push myself into a sitting position. Nureyev doesn’t dare let his saber down around this armed stranger. I can feel the confused anxiety from him.

The blue [togruta](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Togruta) looks between us and huffs out a sympathetic laugh.

“I guess I’ll do the honor of welcoming you two to the resistance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad to finally get to this part! I'll probably link to a drawing of my oc soon! I've been daydreaming about her for months!


End file.
